


Thorns

by Crazydane666



Category: Kaptein Sabeltann | Captain Sabertooth - Formoe
Genre: Blood, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Denial of Feelings, Fear of Death, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Secret Crush, thorns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25556401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazydane666/pseuds/Crazydane666
Relationships: Glade Gorm & Tyra, Pinky/Glade Gorm, Tøge/Birk
Kudos: 1





	Thorns

Something tickles in Gorm's throat. He ignores it at first; coughing fits aren't exactly uncommon for him. But then, as the day goes, the tickling turns into an uncomfortable scratching. He grumbles, then tries coughing. Maybe he got something stuck in his throat? The coughing turns rougher when he feels something in his airway. By the time he's done, the floor is stained with blood. If it was any other situation, he would yell for Pinky to clean it up, but the thought of making the boy clean up the blood puts a bad taste in his mouth. Even worse than the metallic taste of the blood itself. As he crouches down to remove the red clumps and splotches from the galley floor, he notices something weird in the mess.  _ Flower pieces? _

"Tyra?" he yells in a panic. By the time she's at his side, his whole body is shaking. He reaches a hand to his mouth, feeling blood and small pieces of flower petals. "What's happening? Am I dying?"

"No, no, you're okay- uhm-" she stops for a moment. "You're in love."

"Haha, good jok-" he coughs, feeling the blood rising in his throat. "You don't have to sugarcoat it."

"I'm not, my friend. You've got a bad case of head-over-heels love. Who's the lucky guy?"

"How should I know?"

His face heats up. The only person on the stupid ship he feels close to, except for his own crew, of course, is Pinky, and no way in Hell has he fallen for a 10-year-old. No way.

"How do I cure it?" he asks, trying to hide the desperation in his voice.

"Either stop loving this person, or have them love you too."

"And if I can't do either?"

"Then you've got one slow and painful death ahead of you," she says, sorrow in her eyes. 

"I don't want to die, Tyra..." he mutters, throat stinging as he tries to keep back tears. 

"You won't, Gorm. You'll be fine. Everything will be fine." She pulls him into a hug, holding him close and running a hand through his hair. He leans into her, pressing his forehead against her shoulder as he tries to steady his breathing. It doesn't help, and within seconds, he's crying in her arms, tears streaming down his face while his throat aches. From crying or the flowers, he's not sure.

"It's okay, you'll be okay, I won't let anything happen to you. There, there," she whispers. They stay like that for a few minutes, right until Gorm regains his composure and pulls away. 

"What would I do without you?" He sighs.

"Knowing you," Tyra smirks, "you'd probably be dead in your living room."

"You're not wrong, you're not wrong," he laughs. Or tries to, at least. His throat is too sore.

"Everything will be fine and we'll fix this, okay?" She says, voice clear and tone stern.

"Everything will be fine and we'll fix this," he repeats.

"Okay then, let's get you back up and back to work." She stands up, offering Gorm a hand he happily accepts. "Just yell if you need me. Coughing flowers can get ridiculously uncomfortable." 

Tyra leaves the galley, and even after she's gone, Gorm can still feel the smile on his face. But her last words linger in his mind. _Has she been coughing flowers so recently she can still remember what it feels like?_ He shudders at the thought. She would've told him, though. Does the feeling of flowers ripping through your throat stay in your memory forever?

He finishes cleaning the floor. While doing so, he wipes the blood off of some of the petals. Yellow, white and purple. Pretty colors, sure, just not when they're tearing your insides apart.

***

The next time he sees Tyra is around dinner time. There isn't enough space by the dinner table for four new crewmembers, so Tøge, Birk and Tyra usually eat in the galley. And Gorm, worrying that they might somehow manage to mess something up, often joins them. They sit in a nice silence until Gorm speaks up.

"Have any of you coughed up flowers before?" He asks.

Tøge and Birk stop in their tracks, staring at him as if he grew rabbit ears. Tyra looks slightly taken aback, but not surprised.

"You- what kind of question is- you haven't?" Tøge stumbles over his words.

"Isn't that a thing everyone does?" Birk adds.

Tyra stays quiet. Gorm tries to say something, but can't think of the right words.

"Come on, answer his goddamn question," Tyra snaps at them.

The two guys look at each other, confused. Then, Birk speaks up

"Uhm, we both coughed up light pink roses until we got together. It wasn't that bad."

"Other than that, I've coughed up a few small petals through the years. Can't think of any noteworthy ones, though," Tøge continues.

Now it's Gorm's turn to stare at them like they've gone mad. He's known them for close to 10 years, and he's never heard a single mention of coughing up flowers. Anyone coughing up flowers, even.

"How about you, Tyra?" He knows she's coughed up flowers before, but he wants to know what kinds, and for who, and yes he's being nosy but that's just part of having such a weird crew.

"Oh! Uhm, I-" Tyra stutters. "There was one time a while before we met. I fell in love with this one sailor-" Gorm twitches at the mention. She notices and brushes past it. "When we got attacked by that huge tiger that gave me these scars." She points at her cheek. "The fucker ran with the others, so the love stopped right there. I scared off the damn tiger, coughed up the last of the flower stem, and then cursed the whole crew to hell when I got back."

They all love hearing Tyra's story about the 'stupid fucking tiger' that tried to rip her face off. Gorm is sure they can recite it in their sleep. Nonetheless, it's a lovely reminder that even though Tyra is bossy and strict, her bite really is worse than her bark. But the mention of her crush and the flowers is new, though he can see why she never mentioned it before. It's incredibly irrelevant and more personal. 

Tyra doesn't look like she's done talking, but not like she's about to say anything either.

"Anything- anyone else?" Gorm asks.

"You," she says, far too nonchalantly. Gorm stares at her in disbelief as she continues. "You made me cough up so many damn flowers, I thought I was going to choke on them. They stopped when you 'officially' made me part of your crew, and thank the devil for that."

He can't see Tøge or Birk's reaction, but he hears the unmistakable sound of a spoon hitting the floor.

"What? You guys look like you saw a ghost!"

"I just, um- we-" Birk stumbles. 

"We just… didn't know," Tøge tries to explain.

Gorm swallows an uncomfortable lump in his throat- not a petal, luckily. "What… What flowers were they?"

Tyra goes quiet, thinking. "Hm… Thuja and monkshood. Everlasting friendship and caution. With a few orange lilies, which mean pride. Sums us up pretty well, doesn't it?" 

"I… I guess," he mutters.

There's a tense silence until Tøge speaks up.

"Why did you want to know? About coughing up flowers, I mean."

Gorm freezes but tries to laugh it off. "Oh, just curious."

The rest of dinner goes fine, all of them sitting there in a comfortable silence. Right until Pinky shows up, smiling like he has no care in the world, carrying a ridiculous amount of bowls and cutlery. Tøge quickly gets up to help him.

_ Good, they already know what I expect from them. _ Gorm smiles. There's a light scratching in his throat. "Hey Pinky!"

He looks around for a moment, trying to locate his cane. No luck. It's not by the barrels, not by the stove, not by the table where he put it…

"Tyra, have you seen my-" he's interrupted by the light touch of a cane on his head. There stands Tyra, with his cane in her hand and a huge, smug smile on her face. He reaches for it, only for her to take a few steps back. "Oh, come on!"

With a defeated sigh, he gets up on one leg and starts jumping after her as she laughs. Yes, he can just run after her if he wants to. He's fast and agile enough for that, but Pinky is there, and no way in hell is he gonna reveal his lack of a handicap before it's time. So, he's stuck jumping around like an angry parrot, trying to grab Tyra, only for her to move just out of reach every time he gets close. Tøge and Birk are laughing and he's certain Pinky is laughing too. Within seconds, though, Gorm is laughing along.

He's almost got her- she's only a few centimeters away- and then Pinky tackles her. Had it been anyone else in any other situation, she would have snapped their arm, but now, Tyra is laughing so hard her face is turning red. And so is Pinky. Gorm's heart skips a beat, and the scratching in his throat gets worse. He pushes past it and joins them, sitting down on the ground and laughing.

When she's done laughing, Tyra ruffles Pinky's hair. She gets up, dragging both Gorm and Pinky with her. Pinky thanks her, of course- that's just how he is, always so happy and grateful.

"Tøge, Birk, Tyra, how about you go and see if Sabeltann has a task for you? Pinky and I can deal with the dishes ourselves," he points out. Tøge and Birk leave immediately, though Tyra takes her time leaving the galley. Gorm can feel her watching him as he sits down next to Pinky, grabbing one of the pots to clean.

***

That evening, Gorm sits in the galley, vomiting flowers and blood into a bucket until he feels like he's truly dying. He tries to stay quiet, he really does, but it's not long before Tyra shows up. She sits down next to him, patting his back.

"It's Pinky, isn't it?" She asks quietly. 

He nods weakly. "I don't want him to love me."

Tyra doesn't say anything, but she reaches into the bucket and pulls out a few of the bloody petals. "Do you know what they represent?" 

Gorm shakes his head, too busy focusing on breathing to say anything.

"Foxglove…" Tyra mutters. "Insecurity. And, let's see- a yellow rose. It's got a lot of meanings, but intense emotions seem to fit best here. Dried white rose… That's sorrow. And-" she goes quiet for a moment. "Thorns. Lots of them." 

"Fuck my life," Gorm groans.

Then, a thought hits him. What if Pinky is coughing up flowers too? It sounds impossible and unlikely; he's a kid, he shouldn't be getting crushes yet, but the fear is there.

"Has Pinky coughed any flowers…?"

"Not from what I've seen, no."

Gorm sighs in relief.

"How are you coughing so many flowers? I know you like him and all, but this just seems… Excessive, considering how little time you spend exclusively with him."

"Pinky sleeps in my hammock a lot," he mumbles. He stares into the bucket, feeling shame and guilt wash over him. "I tell him bedtime stories so he can sleep."

Tyra looks a bit shocked, quite confused, and maybe a little concerned. "You have to stop that if you don't want to die soon."

"I know," he mutters miserably. "But I can't."

Both of them stop dead in their tracks when the door to the galley creaks open. 

"Oh, hi there Pinky!" Gorm greets him, turning around to see that yes, it is the pretty little galley boy. Who else could it have been? He looks at Tyra, then motions towards the bucket as subtly as he can. She gets the hint- thank everything- and takes the bucket, moving it out of the way. He wipes the remaining blood and flowers off of his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. "What brings you here so early?" 

"What do you mean? It's our usua-" Pinky stops. "Oh, hi Tyra! I didn't see you there. Am- am I interrupting something?"

Before Tyra can say something, Gorm is already standing with his cane and smiling like he wasn't just coughing up his lungs. "Not at all, Pinky-boy! Why don't you, ah- why don't you go tug yourself in? Then I'll be with you in a moment."

"What do you do if you start coughing?" Tyra hisses, quiet but harsh. "How'll you explain it?" 

"I can make an excuse."

She glares at him, then leaves the galley, closing the door behind her. He huffs; he'll be fine, sleeping in the same hammock as Pinky won't make things worse. And the alternative, rejecting Pinky and cutting off all non-work related contact, will just hurt both of them even more. 

He turns around to see the hammock up, and Pinky half asleep already. Gorm crawls into it as calmly as he can, careful not to startle Pinky or send them both falling to the floor because of a shaky hammock. The moment he lies down, Pinky wraps his arms around him and presses his face against his chest.

"No bedtime story tonight?"

"No thanks, I'm already sleepy," Pinky mumbles.

Gorm chuckles and wraps his arms around Pinky, holding him close as his throat burns.


End file.
